Page 90 of Bratva Boss's Secret Baby

“Part of it, yes. I didn’t want you to worry about something you couldn’t control.” He seems lost for a moment. “The other part was I was afraid you’d ask me not to go, not to eliminate Vadim when I had the chance, and I would have agreed despite ten years of pursuing vengeance.”

The admission is like a confession. He was afraid I had enough influence over him to derail his plans for revenge, and afraid he loved me more than he hated his enemies. “You would have stayed if I asked you to?”

“Yes. That’s what terrified me. I’d spent a decade planning Vadim’s death, and all it would have taken was you asking me to choose between vengeance and staying safe with our family.” His voice carries awareness of finally understanding his own motivations. “I couldn’t risk that choice because I knew what I’d pick.”

The honesty in his voice makes something crack open in my chest. He lied to me because he was afraid of how much power I had over his decisions, afraid of choosing love over the violence that had defined his life for so long. “You would’ve stayed for me even after everything. That means more than I can explain.”

He tentatively reaches for my hand, as if he’s not sure he’s allowed the comfort. I lace our fingers together anyway. “I don’t want to be the reason you don’t do what you think is right, but I also don’t want to be someone you lie to because you’re afraid I’ll change your mind.”

He nods slowly. It’s that honesty and terrifying capacity for love that makes me think about Irina, and how different their choices were versus our choices. Wanting to share my insight, knowing he’s been looking for answers for a decade, I say, “I learned something about Irina last night, from her actions more than her words.”

I think about the woman who shot me that defiant look before I pulled the trigger, remembering the guilt in her expression when she spoke about Yaraslov. “I think part of her loved your brother. Maybe she wasn’t evil. Just a narcissist obsessed withself-preservation. She would betray anyone to save herself, but I think she cared about him as much as she could.”

He stiffens. “I don’t know if that makes her betrayal worse or better.” He falls silent for a moment. “Does that change how you feel about killing her?”

“No. She would have murdered you without hesitation. I have no regrets about stopping her, though it might give me nightmares for a while.” The certainty in my voice surprises me. “She made her choices, and I made mine.”

Nikandr nods, understanding flickering in his eyes. “The syndicate belongs to Maksim now. There are a few loose ends I’ll need to tie up over the next year, with obligations and territories that need to be transferred properly, though I pressed on with the succession plan even after you left.”

Even when he thought he might have lost me forever, he continued dismantling his empire to build us a different future. The knowledge makes tears slip down my cheeks without permission.

“After that’s finished, the only people I answer to are you and our daughter.”

I listen to his words while emotions cycle through me like weather systems with relief, love, residual anger, and hope all competing for space in my chest. “I still love you too. I was angry, furious actually, though I still shouldn’t have left where it was safe.”

“You had every right to be angry. I broke my word about the most important thing in our relationship.” He squirms. “I should have offered to leave so you would stay here where it was safe.”

“It wouldn’t have worked. I’m too stubborn sometimes, and I was determined to leave.” I lean closer, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “I promise not to leave again if you promise to keep your word.”

“I promise. No more lies, no more secrets, and no more unilateral decisions about our lives.” He extends his hand toward me like we’re sealing a business deal rather than rebuilding our relationship. “Partners in everything.”

I take his hand and let him pull me toward the bed. “Partners in everything.”

The kiss that follows seals our agreement, though it quickly becomes something much deeper. His mouth moves against mine with careful intensity, like he’s trying to memorize the taste of forgiveness and new beginnings. I feel the tremor in his hands as they frame my face, and the way his breath deepens when I open my mouth to him.

“I still loved you even when I hated you,” I whisper against his lips. “Especially then.”

He responds by kissing me without hesitation, framing my face with reverence that makes my heart race. This kiss is slow and about more than just desire. It’s about belonging, recognition, and coming home. His tongue traces the seam of my lips before delving deeper, and I melt into him completely.

The robe falls away as he worships me like I’m the answer to every brutal question he’s ever asked. His mouth traces the line of my collarbone with infinite patience, finding the sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulder that makes me gasp and arch against him. Each press of his lips against my skin feels like abrand, marking me as his in ways that have nothing to do with possession and everything to do with devotion.

“I need you,” he murmurs against my skin, his voice rough with want and something deeper that makes my pulse stutter. “I need to feel you and know this is real.”

“Show me.”

His hands become reverent as they explore my changing body, fingers tracing every curve with the kind of attention that makes me feel adored. When he reaches the swell of my belly, he pauses to press his palm flat against my skin, feeling for movement that comes immediately in response to his touch.

“She knows her daddy’s voice,” I say, watching his expression transform with wonder.

“Both my girls,” he whispers, leaning down to press gentle kisses across my stomach. “My whole world.”

His mouth continues its journey downward, kissing and nipping at my hip bones before settling between my thighs with purposeful intent. The first touch of his tongue makes me cry out, arching my back off the mattress as sensation floods my system. He’s always been skilled with his mouth, though this morning feels more intense and emotional, like he’s trying to pour all his love and regret and promises into every stroke.

“God, Nikandr, please?—”

“Shh, beautiful,” he whispers against my pussy. “Let me take care of you. Let me show you how sorry I am, how much you mean to me.” He works me with patient devotion, using his tongue and lips and the gentle scrape of his teeth to drive me steadily toward madness. When he finds that perfect rhythmthat makes my thighs tremble, he maintains it relentlessly, one hand pressed flat against my belly while the other grips my hip to hold me in place.

The pressure builds and builds until I’m gasping his name, twisting my fingers in his hair as I fight against the overwhelming sensations. When he sucks firmly on my clit, I shatter completely, crying out as pleasure shoots through me.

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